


Danny's Stapler

by PizzaPolitical (orphan_account)



Series: British Political Dribble [4]
Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Break Up, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4275981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/PizzaPolitical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George is waiting for Danny Alexander to say goodbye. But he hadn't told anyone that, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Danny's Stapler

George Osborne was waiting. He sat at his desk in the Treasury, fingers drumming the table impatiently. He sighed and looked towards the door. It hadn't opened for hours. His secretary had brought him in a fresh cup of tea a while ago, but she was the only visitor he had. George had thought she was someone else as the door creaked open. His heart had sunk, and with an increased level of annoyance, he had slid down further into his chair. He was waiting for Danny Alexander to arrive. _But he hadn't told anyone that, of course_.

It was a week after the general election, and while George had kept his seat, and indeed his position in the Cabinet, he wasn't at all happy. The Conservatives had won a majority, Labour had been defeated by the SNP, and all seemed well and good. The only party who had done worse than Labour were the Lib Dems. They now had eight MPs. George wouldn't of minded, having put up with them in the coalition for five years. But then he learnt that Danny Alexander was one of the forty-nine Lib Dems to lose their seats. It had made George sad. _But he hadn't told anyone that, of course_.

George had been so sad because Danny had been his friend. When the red-headed Lib Dem had first waltzed into the Treasury, proud having contributed to the coalition agreement and ready for a challenge, George had despised him. His accent, his mannerisms, his lack of tact and skill. He bumbled about the pretty halls of the Treasury like a bull, and George didn't like that at all. But then, some how, as the years passed and the economy continued to crash, George had grown to love him. His accent, his mannerisms, his sudden development of tact and skill. All this he now loved. _Loved_ , George had mused as he lay awake one night, Frances sleeping blissfully ignorant beside him. He had wondered what it would be like to have Danny sleeping so peacefully by his side. _But he hadn't told anyone that, of course_.

George had begun to look forward to work. True, he had never really dreaded going into the Treasury in the morning. Yes, the paperwork was endless, and yes, he was constantly being slatted and criticised and mocked for everything he did. But whatever abuse was hauled at him, whatever was printed in the papers, Danny would always be there, waiting at the door of his office, two hot cups of coffee in his large, indelicate hands. George had smiled as he walked towards him, red boxes swinging at his sides. Danny would help him with them from time to time. In those long winter nights, as the wind and snow whistled through Whitehall, he and Danny would sit close to one another and plough through as much paperwork as they could. Whenever they grew too tired, or needed to give their aching hands a rest, they would sit back and talk. George loved talking to Danny. _But he hadn't told anyone that, of course_.

George didn't want to admit how much he loved Danny. Whenever he was having drinks with his fellow Tories he would overhear cruel jokes being made about the Lib Dems in the Cabinet. Some of those cruel jokes involved Danny. He wanted to speak up and slate the person saying such things, but he couldn't. He didn't want to attract attention to himself. David had formed a close friendship with Nick, something the Tory backbenchers loathed. George was very proud of his position. He didn't want to be bullied as often was. _But he hadn't told anyone that, of course_.

George kept his thoughts to himself. On many occasions he had thought about telling David. David was his best friend. He'd understand, wouldn't he? George had decided to go to Downing Street to speak to the Prime Minister. He'd mumbled, a rare occurrence for George, when Danny asked him why. His cheeks had flushed, as red as one of his many boxes, and with a renewed sense of urgency he'd sprinted out of the Treasury. George had stepped into 10 Downing Street and hurried along the corridors to David's office. The door had been slightly ajar, and so George had poked his head through the crack to see if David was actually there. He was, and so was Nick. The Prime Minister and his Deputy had been stood in the middle of the room, locked in a tight embrace. George had stared wide-eyed for a moment or two, before shutting the door silently and retreating. He had stared at his feet as he walked back to the Treasury. His love for Danny still weighed heavily on his chest. _But he hadn't told anyone that, of course._

George had wondered how long David and Nick had been an item. True, there had been several hints here and there. A cheeky hand-hold during Prime Minister's Questions, the stolen glances across the Cabinet. George had felt fairly relieved in a way. David wouldn't be able to criticise him for loving Danny. If he did, it would make him a hypocrite. David was a nice man, George reminded himself, he'd understand. George thought it strengthened the coalition. It could work well for them. The public might like it. George had sighed heavily as he thought that. It was impossible. Danny was a married man, and so was George himself. George had thought briefly one evening, as Danny rambled on about the deficit and so forth, about filing for a divorce. _But he hadn't told anyone that, of course_.

George continued to wait in the Treasury, growing more frustrated by the minute. He drummed a steady beat on his desk, brown eyes darting from his papers to the door. When would Danny come? He had to come at some time. He'd left his stapler. Danny never really left his stapler anywhere. It had lived on George's desk since the start of the election campaign. Danny had been a real rush on the last day of Parliament. George had tried to run after him as he left the Treasury, stapler in hand, but Danny hadn't heard him. That had upset George too. Their goodbye had been so fleeting, so feeble. A mere handshake, when in George's dreams it had been more. _But he hadn't told anyone that, of course_.

George reached over the desk and held Danny's stapler in pale hands. He ran his fingers over its pale red coating and sighed to himself for the thousandth time that night. A flaking label covered the bottom. Danny had written his name on it in black marker pen. The ink had taken a while to dry, and when Danny had set it down on George's desk it had left a small, black smudge. George had cussed him for that, and Danny had apologised, even offering to try and get it off. He had failed. George would have held a grudge, but he loved Danny far too much. Now the Chancellor looked at that smudge with sheer affection, a lasting reminder of his beloved Chief Secretary. _But he hadn't told anyone that, of course_.

George was convinced that sometime soon, Danny would come into the Treasury and say goodbye. A proper goodbye. He realised that it was a long way to go for a quick shake of hands and a stapler, but they were friends. George knew they were friends. He supposed, in his mind, that they should be more than that. George imagined a parallel universe in which they could be together. It was the first time he had wished that Frances wasn't around, that Danny's wife wasn't around. George felt cruel, but that was what Danny had done to him. That was what love had done to him. And as he toyed with Danny's stapler in his hands, George decided one thing. That door would open. And when it did, he would stand up, hand Danny his stapler, and then he would do what he had been dying to do for four years. He would kiss him. He would hug him. He would tell him that he loved him. George hoped that Danny would say the same. _But he hadn't told anyone that, of course_.


End file.
